


Azademus

by Dubender



Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, Original Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dubender/pseuds/Dubender





	Azademus

Azazel’s nightmare always went a little like this. He would be with his mother and little brother, Gregor, in their living room playing some sort of card game. He would be laughing at his brother’s misfortune when they strike. His laugh would be cut short by a large black figure bursting through the west wall. The world would slow to nearly a stop as it swipes it’s clawed paw outwards. It would connect with the couch first sending it hurtling across the room and knocking his brother to the floor. The cards in his hand would fly free from his fingers raining on the room like confetti. Gregor would reach his arm outward for his brother. The terror on his face would be the only thing that would bring Az back from his damned stupor. Az would spring forward quickly reaching for his brother….but not quick enough. The jet black creature bound forward like a bullet tearing through his brother’s right side. His brother’s outstretched hand torn to pieces in an instant as the Grim tears through his neck. Az would never forget how his brother’s limp body fell into his lap like a rag doll, still and unmoving. But not cold. Never cold. The warm red blood would pour from his body unbridled like a burst dam. Everything would freeze except for them. Az would lay his hand on his brother’s head and mutter incoherent words. The pause would only cease when his bloodied hand would retract to reveal the deep red liquid now encompassing his fingers. 

 

His hand would leave his field of sight as his mother would latch onto it, pulling him towards the door. Az’s first steps would stumble over his deceased sibling’s arm. He was somewhat expecting his brother to complain about his clumsiness but he did not even flinch. And then he was gone. Az’s head would turn and the world would be whizzing past him. He would stop running. His mother’s body would jerk to a stop and the would spin around, shouting silence at him trying to get him to move. Az could never hear what she was saying. His ears were ringing when she did. His mother, Mary, would push him, and he would slip, skidding down the hill and into the small valley filled with darkness. While he was hidden by the leaves of the tree he would witness his mother turn her back to him and pull out a sword as long as she was tall. She would battle what seemed to be a million monsters as he watched screaming from the bushes. He tried to get up but could not. He looked down at his leg and saw the issue. He would not be moving for a long time. He grabbed a branch to prop himself up and would start up the hill, but just like with his brother he was too late. Where his mother stood was a patch of red blood and a smear. Azazel would wander through his trampled village, drowning in the screams of anguish and loss. He would return to his house and the world would change again. Only the room existed. Everything past it was blackness swimming in pitch black paint. His mother and brother would step from the paint. Their tanned skin bleached white like bone and blackest eyes. More would come till they crowded and occupied. Mumbling words that seemed of another language. Az’s obvious confusion angering them until their physical bodies grew into dark creatures and they themselves pounced.

 

……

 

Azazel had nightmares. That was obvious though. But Azazel’s nightmares plagued him, and visited his mind every night without any reprieve. Az doesn’t like to admit it though. To himself or to his friends. He was always supposed to be the light friend who brings happiness and jokes to the group. He believed if he was outed he would no longer be able to fulfill his role in his “squad”. There was only one person he ever confided in.

 

His close friend Lucy. Lucy was the last remaining survivor of her family’s massacre by the hand of a random sinkhole giving out. He hoped she would understand how he felt. The guilt of surviving and the fear that maybe the wrong person survived. He retold his dreams in as vivid detail as he could. The way the dream changed just a little every time he experienced them. Like once his mother’s blood and tears was what he drowned in or how he could hear her lullaby songs over the cries of his village. But one thing never changed, when he was on his own, Azazel could not wake up on his own. If his mind had its way he would stay in his nightmarish landscape until he (in the dream) died. Only then would he be permitted to wake up. 

 

Azazel also confessed one occurrence that he is very embarrased of. On a particularly bad night, Azazel’s nightmare had gotten to a point where he woke up his roommate and team mate, Nico, from his slumber. Nico, not knowing what to do, just went to Azazel and stayed with him. Talking and telling him it’s okay. Nico was half-on half-off the bed holding Az in an embrace while he rested his head on Nico’s chest. Though Az’s tears were dampening his shirt and making it stick to his skin, Nico would never complain. They stayed like that until Az’s tears dried and he was too tired to even stay awake. In the morning, Azazel expressed his gratitude in a down cast manner and promised himself he would never let Nico see him like that again. Azazel was just glad that this only happened once...but what Azazel forgets is that just because you don’t remember doesn’t mean it never happens. 

 

………

Nico has now gotten used to their nightly routine. Get back to the dorm after class, do homework together, get ready for bed, maybe take a shower while Az get’s his backpack ready for the next day, then it’s off to bed. He has also gotten used to waking up around midnight to the strangled groans and whimpers of Az on the other bed. He’s gotten used to getting out of bed in the moonlight and shuffling over and climbing in with Az. He’s gotten used to where he needs to put his arms for Az to grip onto, or how much skin to skin contact should be happening to make Az feel more comfortable. He’s gotten used to breathing in Az’s scent of pine and coffee mixed in with the fading aroma of lemon shampoo. He’s gotten used to the entire scene. How Az’s hands instinctively curl around his forearm and his bicep, and how he tilts towards him like he’s trying to hide or protect himself. Or how Nico has to exaggerate his steady breathing to encourage Az to relax and follow his example. He’s gotten used to the warm heat that grows deep in his stomach when he realizes Az is okay now and is no longer being hurt by his dreams. He’s gotten used to holding Az a little longer than he needs to, keeping him close a little longer than he needs to, squeezing him a little tighter than he needs to. 

Nico has gotten used to the lead in his abdomen when he leaves Az every night. The way he sees Az become immediately more frayed and distressed without his presence. Nico knows he’s just letting Az slip into just another nightmare but….. Nico is scared. He’s scared he’ll fall asleep next to Az. He’s scared of what Az might say in the morning or what Nico might not be able to say. Az has gone out with guys before but Nico can’t help the doubt and fear that always pulls him away and into his own bed. But his fear can’t hurt him in the first moments of his awakening. From Az’s first soft whimpers, Nico is up and already by his side. Nico is ready and able to slip through the darkness to Az’s side. Holding his hand and his waist. Rubbing his thumb along the back of Az’s hand. So, if Az was ever to wake up he would wake up to him, to someone, just there for him. 

In the darkness of night and through his own tears, Az has never noticed the soft pitter patter of Nico’s tears. Nico’s heart aches. It aches because he has never noticed the way Nico pulls him closer every time a sob breaks his lips or how Nico can …….never stay. 

 

Az has always attributed the wisps of happiness brought by midnight visits to his mind teasing him with his deepest desires. He only thinks this because in the morning when the nightmares retreat to hide from the light of day, Nico is never with him. Az will wake hoping to find the soft skin of his arms still around him shielding him or welcoming him, but they are never there. By the time morning arrives, Nico is always snoring softly on the other bed like nothing ever happened. Az would wipe away his emerging tears and spring out of bed with his fake happiness, but in the light of day the fear of nightmares is replaced by the longing of love. He could never shake the memory of the Nico’s warmth on his side or the way his hands always feel warmer than the rest of his body, or the way his lips ache for something only a brush in the light of moonlight can offer. For that is the only time he has ever felt it. 

On the other hand, Nico finds mornings a lot harder than Az. Every morning he wakes up knowing that today could have been the day everything changed. Az will shake him from his sleep and Nico would take a second to just stare up. The light streaming in from the slits in the curtains always seemed to be hitting Az like some sort of indicator of his beauty. The light would reveal the miniscule tints of green in his eyes or how in the sunrise light his green highlights seem more gold. Nico just tries to take in the view like a sponge in a bathtub. How Az always wears the too large shirt to sleep but how it always hitches up on his hip revealing small sliver of skin above his underwear. Or his messy hair from a fitful sleep, or his chapped lips stretched into a gentle smile, and in this moment Nico can only do one thing. Nico can only curse himself. If only he had the courage to speak or stay with Az through the night when Az needs him the most. If only Nico was brave enough. If only.

“Az?” Nico says, sitting up on his bed.

“Yeah?” Az says.

“We need to talk”

“Hehe, that is never a good sign” Az jokes but he turns and faces Nico. He walks over and sits next to the bed leaning on his arm.

“It’s about last night” Az’s eyes widen. 


End file.
